30 Kisses: Shunsui and Nanao
by baru-chan
Summary: Shunsui, Nanao and thirty kisses. Third installment, theme number 30: Feel it, appreciate it, for all will be as it was tomorrow.
1. Winter

**Title:** Winter  
**Author:** baru-chan  
**Pairing:** Kyouraku Shunsui/Ise Nanao  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Theme:**#10 -- #10  
**Word count:** 163  
**Disclaimer:** Bleach is the property of Kubo Tite. No profit was made from this fic, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

She closed her eyes as the first few snowflakes alighted on her nose, settling comforably on her skin. He couldn't help but be captivated at the sight.

"Ne, my Nanao-chan looks so pretty, savoring winter's first kiss!"

She didn't answer, but her lips twitched a tad bit upwards, as though pleased by the compliment. He took note of it, and tucked it safely into the back of his mind.

(His days never seemed to be complete if he didn't learn something new about her. The fact that he learned new things about her when she seemed, to the rest of the world, as predictable as there are stars in the sky amused him.)

"Don't you find it odd that it's snowing in July?" she said.

"Perhaps we will demand an explanation later, hm? Right now, let's just enjoy the novelty of experiencing winter in July!"

A few kilometers away, an exceptionally gifted young shinigami by the name of Hitsugaya Toushiro was experimenting with the newly-revealed shikai form of his zanpakutou.


	2. The Color of Life's Blood

**Title:** The Color of Life's Blood  
**Author:** baru-chan  
**Pairings, Characters:** Kyouraku Shunsui/Ise Nanao, Ukitake, Kaien  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Theme:** (for the lj community 30kisses) #19 -- red  
**Word count:** 272  
**Disclaimer:** Bleach is the property of Kubo Tite. No profit was made from this fic, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Notes:** This is the first time I tried to write in this particular style, so any feedback regarding that aspect of this drabble (ficlet?) is very much appreciated. Also, I don't have a beta-reader, so if there are any typos, grammar errors, etc., feel free to point them out. :)

* * *

She tries not to notice the consumption eating away at his friend's body, a fragile shell that feebly tries to hold on to the life it still possesses. But it is difficult, and blood continues to soak through the fabric of the handkerchief.

She hands his friend a new one, then continues to talk with her fellow Vice-Captain. They do not mention the coughs that interrupt their superiors' conversation.

ooo

"Red is the color of death," she observes as they walk towards their headquarters.

"No, it is not," he says gently.

"What is it, then?"

He does not answer, and she frowns in consternation.

ooo

He stretches out languidly on the floor as she handles the paperwork nearby. All is silent, then --

"Red is the color of life's blood," he says. A pause. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

They both know it is a lie.

ooo

It eats away at her thoughts in the darkness, when there is nothing to distract her from his question; he haunts her even in her dreams.

_Do you understand?_

_Yes._

The lie burns the back of her throat, as if she screams the answer into the night. Maybe she does.

ooo

"He's dead."

Her fingers grow numb with shock, and he gently pries them off the book she is holding.

"Why?" He shakes his head.

"Questions like that are never meant to be answered."

ooo

_Red is the color of life's blood. Do you understand, sweet Nanao-chan?_

_Yes, Captain. I do._

She looks at his friend with new eyes, in this land of death, of fury, of destruction --

-- and all she sees is red.


	3. Senseless

**Title:** Senseless  
**Author:** baru-chan  
**Pairing:** Shunsui/Nanao  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Theme:** #30-- kiss  
**Summary:** Feel it, appreciate it, for all will be as it was tomorrow.  
**Word Count:** 344  
**Disclaimer:** Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

**Author's Notes:** Again, this is an experimental piece. This is the first time I've used the Second Person POV, so any comments on the writing style will be greatly appreciated.

* * *

See it. 

See the lock of hair that refuses to be tamed, resting against her cheek lightly, caressing whisper-delicate skin.

See the Book as it is: large, thick and old as Time itself, its contents esoteric, nigh indecipherable.

See the chain: a wispy shackle that binds the Book to its Bearer, a reminder of what things must be.

See her as she is now: a woman implacable and unwavering in her purpose, posture dignified and ramrod-straight, meticulous and withdrawn, your opposite.

See, and remember, for it is beauty you behold.

ooo

Hear it.

Hear the whisper of brush and ink upon paper and parchment, a gentle noise, barely heard but for the light _swish-swish-swish_ of each stroke made by graceful white hands.

Hear the faint snatches of tune as she absentmindedly hums a gay melody, a haunting strain; hear them as each song imprints itself into your consciousness.

Hear the small puffs of breath as air goes in-out, in-out, in you and out of you, until your breathing matches hers and synchronicity is all you know.

Hear the low, throbbing beat of her heart, a pounding rhythm that seeps into your veins, into your heart, and into the very fiber of your being.

Hear it, savor it, for it is all you know of her.

ooo

Feel it.

Feel the lock of hair that tickles the side of your face, a slight sensation lost amongst the thousand other sensations that bombard you.

Feel her pulse racing as it goes _thump-thump-thump_, a staccato rhythm beating against your rough sword-callused thumb as it flutters against the white column of her throat.

Feel the softness of her lips as they rub against your own, each movement prompting a tiny jolt of delight and pleasure to course through your veins.

Feel the faint gasps of breath as she pants into your mouth and you into hers, the tiny mewling sounds she makes vibrating in your mouth and in your throat and in the entirety of your existence.

Feel it, appreciate it, for all will be as it was tomorrow.


End file.
